


The Founding of Kievan Rus

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: A Brief History of Time Event 2018, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Kievan Rus - Freeform, Murder, young russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 10:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15071624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: It is the year 882 ad. Several eastern Slavic tribes were under pressure, and attack. The Byzantines lay to the south, and the Varangians (Vikings) were to the immediate north. Germanic tribes banding together powers of their own in the west outflanked the region. It was time to unionize into something more, something larger, out of pure need for survival...In this story, young Russia has a woodlands adventure while preparing for the founding party of Kievan Rus.





	The Founding of Kievan Rus

Little Ivan tracked his prey through the spring muck and grit of the never ending forests. There was many tracks, some so long in stride the young boy had to hop to meet each step. The delicate impressions of rabbit tracks. The long dragging front claws of badgers preparing for fresh hunt. The bisected cloven imprints of elks returning from winter grazing lands. All of these were interesting side notes of the lad's journey.

The ash blond child was tracking a very special set of tracks. Like semi flattened ovals with distinct pressure at the tips, from the rolling gate of heel to toe walking. Very human tracks. Hopefully they belonged to the appropriate target this time.

Softly breathing, the child crouched behind a thick fir tree as a vague shape took form in the far distance. His ragged rabbit fur cloak and the many brambles now stuck to it ensured appropriate camouflage. With a deep breath, the violet eyed boy dared a peek around the trunk twice his width. Mitten covered fingers squeezed the scaly tree bark at what was seen.

It was the very resilient representative of Beloozero, a neighbouring tribe to the north west. The man was a pale strong fellow gifted with mighty beard. He was currently unaware of Ivan's existence, cooking a rabbit in a primitive metal bowl above a fire.

Jealousy flared hotly in Ivan's gut. The idiot was wasting precious metal on cookware, and Ivan was so poor he couldn't get anything better that a stone dagger. It wasn't even a good stone dagger, something the youth had slapped together over a week for this event.

The determination to kill this treasonous bastard only intensified. This was the last living tribe in direct opposition of Kievan Rus's founding. The last hurdle to Ivan having strength in brotherhood, to having family. Little hands tightened a grip on the primitive stone dagger, even as his gentle conscience protested.

The poor representative of the Slovenian peoples had tried every other method to curb this Beloozero cur's ire. Gifts and offerings, talks of increased trading and shared knowledge. But the much taller adult had only spat on the child's efforts, bristling with better weapons and food. It made killing him the only option, and a rather difficult one at that.

The taller man, so much taller, had only mocked him for being vulnerable in youth. There was no way the boy could jump high enough to reach that unarmoured neck, so improvisations would have to be made.

Tucking the dagger away in his belt, the stubborn boy punched himself hard in the leg. The prickling pain make him bite his lip and huff, but it was enough to serve his purposes. A few tears of pain sprang to his eyes, just barely enough. Stepping out from the tree, he let out a small sob and walked with exaggerated limp a few steps.

The other man, Olaf, spotted the movement immediately with a hand on his mighty axe. His purple eyes, a mirror image of Ivan's own orbs, softened when they settled on the falsely vulnerable creature.

“It is only you little Ivan. I thought there was a bear.” the representative greeted casually. “I suppose you are here to pester me about the founding of Kievan Rus again. I'm not interested in your pathetic unions.”

“No... no I'm sorry Olaf. I came to say I'm sorry. But... I was following and there was...” Ivan halted his words with false emotion, sniffling from how bad his leg hurt. Gods willing the idiot would mistake them for tears of grief. “... and I got attacked. I wasn't as strong and mighty... and I barely got away...”

After a tense second, the older man cracked the beginnings of a smile. “You were right to come to me for help. I'm much stronger and more experienced than you. I fought Varangians when you weren't even found yet.” With a welcoming gesture of arms, the older man finally took his hands off the battle axe handle and patted his lap. “What got you? Badger? Wolf? I have some bandages I can share.”

Ivan shuffled forward nervously, eyeing the viking made iron dagger sitting beside his enemy on the log. It looked wonderfully sharp and glittering the the shy spring sunlight. It looked much deadlier than Ivan's stub of a weapon.

The boy took his chance and approached the fireside. The exactly moment the adult bent lower to pick up Ivan, the youth swiped the weapon off the felled log and embedded it in that pale exposed neck. The man backpedaled blindly while whipping his massive axe out of it's hip holster. In the process he tripped over the log and fell hard with a loud thud.

As Ivan scrambled for tree cover, there was a slurred curses fading to nothing. “... You bitch, I'll kill you for... for this... I am Olaf of Beloozero, and there... will be... blood...” With an final gurgle of bloody breath, the heavily armoured man stilled.

Shaking with the urge to throw up, the frightened boy approached. His heart hammered as he peeked over the thick log. The man was still, but as Ivan knew too well, not actually dead. The perk of being a tribal representative picked by the gods was that nothing could completely kill you. That was, unless your heart was removed and destroyed. It was a quiet secret only a handful of representatives knew. Ivan only discovered this himself when Ekaterina warned him to guard his heart from danger.

Apparently Olaf target hit his unprotected head on a rock upon landing, buying Ivan at least an hour to complete his grizzly task. After struggling with the many knots lashing armour to the sturdy body, Ivan finally peeled the now bloody leather protection away.

There it was, sunless bare chest beneath hole riddled clothes. It seemed the older man was not as wealthy as he claimed, just as thread bare as Ivan's adult tunic turned child dress. Ivan ripped the stuck dagger out of that meaty neck and set to work gingerly. He didn't want too much blood on him upon returning to the modest town of Novgorod.

Why was a man's insides so tough to cut? Ivan grimaced as he completed his task, insides squirming at the brutal task. He didn't much like this, but this was it. The absolute last and only person he would have to kill to gain power and freedom as a proper kingdom. No more tribal blood feuds. No more hunting territory squabbles that lasted weeks. He would be in a great big family with all the remaining tribes, loved and cared for...

This positive image helped the young child focus. Finally prying a strong rib open with a crack, a vulnerable lung was exposed. Truth be told, Ivan wasn't sure where hearts on people were exactly. He had to find out soon though. Ripping out the large lung and its various membranes, they were flung far off to the side. The sight of them make the child queasy. Gutting a rabbit was one thing, but gutting a living man was... morally difficult.

Not allowing himself a chance to throw up, Ivan ripped out anything and everything. Finally an irregular shaped red thing was found. It had a few valves firmly attaching it, much akin to grown elk's heart. Chopping it free, the errant organ was tossed on the still roaring cooking fire.

Watching the thing roast, then slowly shrivel and blacken, Ivan absently ate the forgotten rabbit dinner. It was all rather upsetting, but the deed had to be done. A great time passed, and the crudely dissected man never stirred. Finally certain the death would stick, the boy put the fire out and covered his tracks. It was mostly just tossing camp supplies about and scattering the few remnants of snow over foot prints. Just enough to conceal the fact that a child killed Olaf. There was plenty of adults out for the man's blood as it was.

The trek home was long and cold as the sun began to set. Guided by twinkling starlight, the child sent a silent prayer to the god Stribog and his many servants for safe travel. His prayers were answered this time, for soon flickering dots of orange fire were seen beyond the endless forest's edge. A massive but simple wooden wall curtained in the thriving town of Novgorod. Torches and mounted heads on spikes peppered the edges of civilization, a warning to rival tribes, beasts, and thieves.

Two leather armoured guards with spears sat, hands cradling cups of mead. They stood from from the squatting “seats” that was their bodies, glaring at the boy. One readied his spear to be launched, until Ivan pulled back his cloak.

Immediately recognizing their representative, the human guards bowed deeply. “Apologies, my lord. We didn't recognize you in your hunting clothes”

“I forgive you Boris.” The boy cheered, taking a cup of mead as he waited for the gate to be opened. The guards gave it easily. They were simply happy to see him. Until last spring, Novgorod and the Slovenians around it had no representation at all. It made the thriving town a common target of the other tribes and warrior traders. To have even a weakened child as their voice, was better than no voice at all.

The wooden construct town was buzzing with activity. Villagers ran to and fro, arms bundled high with fire wood. It was all very necessary for the large bonfire tonight. After five long days of chanting, ritual, and lesser sacrifices to the gods, they were going to light a massive fire, the biggest the town had ever made.

The gods, grandfathers perched up their starry thrones that dotted the sky, would see this fire. They would see how bright the blaze, mistaking it as another god's chair. At the very least, they would take it as flattery. Thus Kievan Rus's official founding as a solidified kingdom would start off on good footing with all parties present.

Or so the many shamans explained as they tended to this spiritual event. Ivan was honestly skeptical but 'too young' to be taken seriously by elder tribes. Ivan had ordered a few townspeople to set aside buckets of water as beverages. It was actually to douse any spare flames that threatened to destroy Novgorod... again.

Weaving through the crowds, Ivan spotted the colourful blue skirt of the representative for the Ruthanians. There were a older more powerful tribe to the west, with noteworthy archers. “Katya! Katya! You came!” the boy squeaked, barrelling into Ekaterina's legs.

Ekatrina, with ash blond hair just like Ivan's, and pretty blue eyes, and fun to hug curves. She could do no wrong, commit no crime. Especially after finding young Ivan alone and freezing in the northern wastes. She carried him to Novgorod, modifying one of her distinctive yellow and blue shirts into a tunic for him. She fed him his first taste of Borscht when his little fingers were too numb to hold a spoon.

“I love you Katya!” Ivan crooned, hugging her tall legs.

The older representative absently ruffled Ivan's hair. “I know little one.” Internally she winced at how attached her former charge had become. All she did was feed him and give him a ride to the closest town in her troika, and now he stuck to her like tree sap.

“Hey Kat _ka_ enjoying parenthood to a loser?” Victor, a huskier bearded tribe leered as he passed. Dressed in lavish reds and whites of the Radimichians just for the occasion, he laughed at the duo as he passed.

Ivan silently glared at the crude man while still attached to a leg. “I don't like him. He didn't even want to join Kievan Rus. Why is he here?”

“I don't know. Nobody likes him.” the teenage Ekaterina sighed, giving up on prying Ivan off for now. She began walking, and the little boy transferred to the hem of her skirt as he followed step for step.

“I'm going to conquer him for insulting you.” Ivan volunteered cheerfully, blushing with joy.

“That's not needed dear.” Ekaterina dismissed, knowing full well he would ignore the order. The over confident child frequently spouted such silly things, but everyone knew the claims were fruitless. The young thing could barely produce a weapon, let alone kill anything with it. He probably _couldn't_ kill anyone, so innocent and little.

Every human tribe in the known world had been assigned a representative at one point or another. There was so many, that it was a survival of the fittest. Ekatrina had the blood of at least two southern tribes on her slender hands. Her thirsty arrows had drank of many human servants from her enemies.

Glancing at innocent little Ivan, the woman had a bad gut feeling. This little ball of sunshine simply wasn't going to make it in the long run, so there was no point to getting attached. With a tired smile, she crouched and wriggled his little fingers free of her hand stitched skirt.

“Vanya, little star, do you want to make me happy?” The ash blonde prompted sweetly.

“Yes. More than anything else. Because I love you.” Ivan volunteered instantly, royal purple eyes lit up at such a suggestion.

“Of... Of course. Go make sure there will be enough snacks and water for all the people. You don't want hungry guests at your special day, okay?” The female asked softly. Still the child clung on for dear life. 

“Oh... Okay. You won't leave?” Ivan replied uncertainly, eyes to the soggy mud roads.

“How could I leave so soon? I have to lift you up so you can see how tall the sacred fire is.” In this, The Ruthanian was much more certain. As a deeply religious woman, she had a lot riding on all this fuss and ceremony.

“Okay!” The child ran off to impress his idol. There would be food for everyone, enough to warm their souls and fill their bellies. Then Katya would be super impressed and give Ivan ticklish squishy hugs.

Night covered the skies in velvet void. The blackness was studded with the starry thrones of the gods, their ancestors, and the many dead animals slain out of need. It was all so perfect. Even Novogorod was well lit, akin to a star on earth this night.

Roughly ten tribe representatives and a dozen of their chosen humans were bunched around the sacred bonfire, still unlit. A female shaman was draped in wolf pelts to lend the animal's strength as she sang ancient verses. Men artfully playing stolen roman lyres were accompanied by simple flute and drum players.

Combined with all the burning magic herbs, it was quite a heady experience for a very young Ivan. Finally, The song was ended and the older shaman gestured to the crowds around her.

“On this day, the founding of the powerful Kievan Rus, We ask favour, protection of the many spirits above and around us! We call to Perun, the lord of lightning and thunder!” She called out, oozing religious authority.

“To Perun!” the crowd echoed jubilantly.

“We call to Horz, the master of fangs and darkness!” She rang out again fervently.

“To Horz!” everyone repeated. It went on in this manner for six more gods, four of which many didn't seem to recognize. They were probably from the southern tribes, Ivan surmised internally. Finally, the prayer repetitions stopped and the shaman looked pleased in her handiwork.

“Now we party! For Kievan Rus!” The wolf garbed woman cheered, motioning to the musicians. Raucous lively music filled the air as the sacred fire sparked to life. The atmosphere of joy and drinking only grew with the flames, soon a loud chatter of life that permeated the entire town.

Soon the moon herself appeared as she rose over the town, a full pale face watching her grandchildren from the sky. Ivan looked back at the moon, then the jubilant partying masses around him. It was a time and place of real happiness and union. It was then that little Ivan knew. He knew in his heart. Kievan Rus was going to become a powerful kingdom that controlled the known world.

Everything was going to be great.


End file.
